Reading Time
by JamesLuver
Summary: Anna requests that John reads to her, then distracts him as he attempts to fulfill her wish.


**A/N:** Once again, this is for** theglamourfades**, because I wanted to fulfill my promise of getting both fluff and smut to you. I thought of you as soon I saw the prompt.

This was inspired by a post on Imagine your OTP, a blog on Tumblr. I'll include the link to it on my profile.

The lines of the texts that are used here (represented in italics) obviously don't belong to me.

**Disclaimer:** _Downton Abbey_ is not mine.

* * *

_Reading Time_

On an evening, there was nothing that John Bates liked more than climbing into bed after a long day at work, limbs tired and aching, feeling the silky smoothness of Anna's skin against him, her touch easing his tensions. He had noticed that since they had moved into the cottage – the first time that they had been allowed to share the same space since becoming man and wife – they had a little less regard for the things that had used to be so important to them. Anna was more likely to put off the cleaning for another time if she caught sight of John lingering in the doorway, giving her one of those deliciously seductive looks of his, the kind that he had fixated her with the first time that they had stepped inside their cottage together, the one that made her stomach squirm with want. And John had found that he wasn't reading nearly as often as he used to, more preoccupied with the way that Anna slid into bed beside him on an evening, often in her flimsy nightgown, sometimes in nothing at all.

Still, he suspected nothing out of the ordinary when Anna suggested that he should read to her one night.

"You used to do it all the time back at Downton," she said matter-of-factly. "I used to love listening to you read."

John smiled at the memory. He had enjoyed those times too, far more than he should have done at the beginning when her feelings for him had remained unspoken. He would never forget the way that they would stay up long past everyone else had gone to bed, sitting in their night things, Anna sometimes shivering unperceptively but refusing to go back to the warmth of her bed no matter how much he tried to convince her that it was for the best; the two of them sitting close together as John laid the book flat on the table in front of him, the candlelight bathing the area in a soft, shimmering glow; Anna's breath blowing gently against his hand as she peered at the words while he read them, warm and distracting, her golden hair catching in the light; her own expression scrunched in concentration as she took her turn, voice whispery and barely there, as if she was frightened of speaking too loudly and breaking the spell that often seemed to be cast over them in those moments.

"All right," he said, smiling at her softly. He never could deny her. "What do you want me to read to you? I have some poetry here that I started a few nights ago, but I haven't got very far with it yet. Perhaps I could start with some of that?"

"Actually, I have a request of my own to make," she said, and her smile was sweet as she withdrew a book from beneath her pillow. "How about you read _Pride and Prejudice_ to me?"

John wrinkled his nose in distaste. "_Pride and Prejudice_? Anna, reading it once was quite enough for me."

"But it's so romantic," she cooed, fixing him with her best beseeching stare. "I'd love to hear you reading it to me again. You're my own Mr. Darcy."

He snorted, shaking his head at the way she fluttered her eyelashes. "Flattery – particularly such ridiculous flattery as that – is not going to get you anywhere, Mrs. Bates."

"What if I promise to make it up to you?"

The question lingered in the air between them, and John felt his breath suddenly catching in his throat at the look she was giving him, all smoky eyed and suggestive. He couldn't resist her when she looked at him like that.

"Oh, all right then," he sighed, pretending that he was more put-out than he actually was, picking the book up with a sigh and flipping it open to the beginning with a huff. Anna, however, appeared not the slightest bit fazed by his reaction, snuggling up beside him in their marital bed, resting her head against his shoulder and peering at the page much like she'd done in the old days at Downton. John couldn't resist moving to press a kiss against her temple, settling himself more comfortably, flipping open the book to the beginning.

"It's a good job I love you," he grumbled. "I wouldn't be re-reading this for just anyone."

"Then I'll give you my most grateful thanks," she said in reply, though the smirk on her lips let him know that she wasn't the least bit serious. "Now, are you going to begin?"

He groused under his breath again, but did as he was asked. "_It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife…_"

He continued on for several pages, losing himself in his reading despite himself. Anna's breath blew against his neck, and he found that he loved this new closeness between them, an intimacy that would never have been allowed within Downton's walls. He flicked the pages with practised ease as he went, taking his task a tad more seriously than he had initially planned to. Anna's warm weight against his side was wonderful, and he found himself shivering slightly whenever she sighed softly, nudging her head closer to his. He got through the first chapter with ease, and had just made it two pages into the third, when he felt it.

The skim of Anna's fingers against him.

At first, he brushed it off, putting it down to the fact that Anna had shifted beside him to find a more comfortable position. Her eyes were still fixed intently on the page, following the words as he read. He read a paragraph further.

And jumped.

"Something the matter, darling?" she murmured to him, still not tearing her eyes away from the page.

He shook his head shakily, then began to read again, though his voice was a little more unsteady than it had been earlier. Was she really unaware of the fact that her hand had drifted down his body, and was now sitting innocently against his thigh? Had it truly been an unconscious movement? She looked innocent enough. Her brow was furrowed a little in concentration, as if she was working hard to keep up with him.

But then he saw the wicked twinkle in her eye, and it all fell into place with clarity. The minx was doing it on purpose.

He should have known. His Anna was full of surprises. He would never forget the memorable times of walking in from an exhausting night at work to find her conspicuously absent…only to stumble across her already reclined on their bed, sheets mussed in preparation of what was to come, her body completely bare and every inch of it on display for him to see, a cheeky grin lighting her face. He swallowed hard against the recollection of that now. The last thing he needed was for his body to start betraying his interest.

Idly, Anna's nails began to rake against his thigh just slightly, and he fought the urge to groan. God, she knew what that did to him. He could already feel the warning twinge in his lower half. He really hoped that he wasn't going to make a fool of himself. Desperately, he threw himself more enthusiastically into the book, concentrating on the characters that had only irritated him the first time around.

Two could play at this game.

"…_They returned therefore in good spirits to Longbourn, the village where they lived, and of which they were the principle inhabitants…_"

John heard Anna sigh again against him, her hot breath ruffling against his ear and making the hairs on his body stand upright at once. Her hand began to stroke more pronouncedly, lethargic caresses against the length of his thigh that made him desperate to throw the book aside and let her do whatever she wanted to him. But he was a stubborn man if nothing else, and he staunchly continued onwards, right to the end of the chapter without losing his composure any further. Quite how he had managed that, he didn't know. His fingers were biting into the cover of the book now.

"_Elizabeth listened in silence, but was not convinced_ – oh good _God_!"

His sudden exclamation made Anna start a little, though a wicked smirk began to curl at the corners of her mouth at the same time.

"What's wrong, John?" she asked, tone laced with concern. Her hand, now fully covering his clothed manhood, began to stroke there gently, as if she was petting a cat's fur.

Somehow, John managed to turn his head towards her, resisting the temptation to crush his mouth against hers. He wasn't going to give in that easily. She thought she had him. Well, she was wrong.

John was ordinarily not a competitive man, especially when it came to Anna. But there was something about her smirk and her sureness that she was going to best him that made him want to prove her wrong. In any case, the atmosphere was far from competitive. Anna was making it quite clear that she was in a playful mood, and John loved it when his wife was like that.

"Nothing," he said, managing to keep his voice steady. "I just gave myself a paper cut, that's all."

"Poor love," she murmured. "Should I kiss it better?"

He had a feeling that she'd do more than kiss his fingers if he allowed her to, so he shook his head quickly. "It's fine. I'll just carry on reading, if you'd like."

"Yes, I would like," she said, her eyes dancing. "I'm finding this to be very…_enjoyable_ indeed."

He nodded, not trusting himself to compose a suitable reply, and then carried on reading. "_…their behaviour at the assembly had not been calculated to please in general…_"

He carried on like that for several minutes longer, beginning to bite his lip a little as Anna's hand continued stroking him lazily. And there was absolutely nothing that he could do stop himself from responding to her touch, his eyes half-lidding as he desperately tried to continue focusing on the words on the page in front of him. Shoots of pleasure arrowed up from his manhood, tantalising every part of his body. He managed with great difficulty to not buck his hips and groan. That would have been most embarrassing. Instead he continued to read the conversation between Charlotte and the Bennets. God, this was most dull. Was that why Anna had chosen it? Because it would hold his attention less than another book? A sideways glance into her face told him that his assumptions were correct. Anna was no longer paying any attention to the book in front of her. Instead, her attention was focused solely on the motion of her hand against him. Now that she had felt him responding to her, she was becoming all the more teasing with every pass of her hand. Her fingertips kept grazing against the waistband of his bottoms in the most distracting way. Her fingernails would graze just lightly against the skin of his stomach, and it made him tingle. His voice was most definitely not as steady now. His breath kept hitching, and he was pausing for longer and longer over the simplest of words, trying to remember how they were pronounced. He was going to make a fool of himself if he carried on for much longer. Why had he even thought that he could keep his composure anyway?

And then he couldn't help but gasp as he felt Anna slowly working the front of his bottoms down. Good _Christ_.

"Are you sure you're all right, Mr. Bates?" Anna's voice came again, mock-concern filling her tone. "That gasp was quite unexpected!"

"I've told you, I'm perfectly fine," he managed to grind out. "I'd just forgotten that Lizzie said that."

"What, that she'd begin by being impertinent to Mr. Darcy?" said Anna. "You must be losing your mind a little in your old age. _Everyone_ knows that Lizzie doesn't like Mr. Darcy at first."

There was nothing that John could do in response except for keep reading. His voice was decidedly more breathless now, but he persevered to the best of his ability.

His self-control didn't last for long at all. Anna's hand, which had pushed up his pyjama top past his stomach so that she could rub her palm across the skin there, began to creep further down again. With a sudden thrill, John knew exactly what she was going to do. Slowly, her fingers began to sneak around the hard length of him. She squeezed him firmly…and then pulled him upright.

The pleasure that ripped through his body at her action was almost unbearable, and his hips arched off the bed at once. His fingers crinkled the pages of _Pride and Prejudice_ and he stumbled in his reading, hissing from between clenched teeth. Anna nuzzled against his neck for a moment, obviously content in his reaction, before dragging her fingers up the length of him.

"Aren't you going to continue?" she urged him. "It was just getting good then!"

There was no way on earth that he could continue for much longer without interrupting his reading with a groan every few seconds. If Anna persisted at the rate that she was, he'd be coming undone in the middle of a sentence about dreary suitors.

Perhaps that was exactly what Anna wanted.

John gritted his teeth harder than ever, his words muffled and slow. He wasn't even aware of what he was reading anymore. Something about the village of Longbourn. At least, he caught sight of that word as he read in a haze. All he could truly concentrate on were the feelings that Anna was evoking within him. Her fingers were squeezing him tightly, letting the pressure of the pleasure build up inside him almost unbearably until they released him, leaving him desperate and aching.

"_After…after listening one m-morning to their eff-effusions on this subject, Mr. Bennet coolly observed…_oh, God, that feels _good_!"

"I'm quite sure Mr. Bennet didn't observe that," said Anna, letting her lips graze his earlobe. "Stick to the story if you're going to tell it."

God, she was a minx in every sense of the word. Her lips kissed at his earlobe just softly, her nose brushing against the side of his face. John squeezed his eyes tightly closed for a moment, flexing his muscles. He felt as if he was on fire. The pleasure in his lower half was spiralling out of control. John grunted in the middle of Mr. Bennet's wish that he hoped always to be sensible of his children's silliness. His palms had suddenly become very sweaty indeed. His shirt was sticking uncomfortably to his back. And then there was Anna, her hand moving up and down with practised ease, her fist squeezing him tight. He was burning. The pleasure in his veins was electric. His vision swayed before him. He couldn't keep focused on the page. Random words sprang out at him: _Lydia, officers, Bingley, Hursts_. His mouth worked, though he couldn't tell if he was still reading or not above the roar of desire in his head. All he could hear was the thump of his pulse, loud inside his mind. His eyes were beginning to roll a little. Anna's hand squeezed him lightly, and he almost shot off the bed. One of his hands let go of the book, moving to grasp deliriously at the snarled bed sheets. His head was falling back against the pillows, beginning to succumb to defeat, and Anna moved closer to him, her mouth brushing against his ear as she started to speak.

"You feel so good, darling, so _so_ good. Let it come, John…"

He groaned, louder than ever. The book fell completely from his slackened hand. His head rocked all the way back. Her hand continued to pump him slowly, dragging up and then down in tender motions, drawing patterns against his length with her fingernails, making him jerk and groan. His head turned to the side, and Anna looked up at his face expression. It took her breath away. His eyes were squeezed tightly closed, his teeth sank hard into his lip. His hair was flopping over his forehead in sweaty strands. He looked so perfect, and she couldn't resist leaning up to him, pressing her mouth against his and slipping her tongue inside for a taste.

It was that intimate action of her tongue plundering his mouth that had him falling completely over the edge, his mouth moving ardently against hers, sounds of utter gratification muffled against her lips. The pleasure ripped through his entire body, sending the hairs standing on end, making his heels dig into the sheets as he arched up towards her hand. Anna kept on pumping him even after he had finished, her fingers smoothing gently over him as he hissed and twitched in her arms. At last she left him alone, removing her hand entirely, picking up one of the bed sheets and wiping both her hands and himself tenderly.

"I'll wash it in the morning," she said. "Now, take your shirt off. That will solve that problem. And you might as well remove your bottoms too."

"You just want to get me naked," he growled, but did as she said clumsily, dropping his clothes over the side of the bed.

She was over him in the next second, kissing him again, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"I won," she whispered between kisses. "I knew you wouldn't be able to keep concentrating for long. Although you got further than I'd thought you would."

"That was only round one," he whispered in reply. "I think turnabout is fair play."

"What?"

He flipped them over in the next instant, pinning her down into the mattress with his naked weight. She whimpered as she felt him against her, then raised her eyebrows quizzically when he leaned over and picked up a book of his own choice.

"_Bleak House_?" she said sceptically. "Really, John? Why on earth do you even own this book?"

John shrugged. "I don't know. I hate Dickens. I keep intending to donate it to Lord Grantham's library, though I'm sure he has several copies of it, but I just never seem to remember. In any case, it's coming in handy now."

"Why, because you want me to read it to you? You'll be telling me to be quiet within the first three lines."

"I don't have to listen to you," he smirked. "I just thought that since you love Dickens just as much as I do, you'll be more than happy to accommodate my wishes."

"Of reading a book that neither of us likes?"

His hand ghosted down her front to rest between her legs. He shuddered at the feel. Clearly her ministrations to him had aroused her just as much. It wouldn't take any time at all to wield his own victory from her.

"I told you, I don't need to listen," he said. "All I need to do is concentrate on you."

Slowly, he began to drag her undergarments down her thighs, throwing them blindly into the room when he'd accomplished that.

"John, you're being silly."

"Am I?" He stroked his roughened fingertips against her thighs. "In that case, I am an old fool who loves you intensely. Let me see if you can withstand the pleasure any better than I could."

"You know I won't be able to," she moaned softly, shifting her thighs. "You know that I'm…_ready _before you even start!"

"I suggest you start reading quickly then," he commanded softly, pulling open her thighs. He dipped his head to her.

"John," she whimpered. "You can't be so cruel."

"Start reading," he repeated, moving to nip at her thighs.

With shaky fingers, she peeled part the pages, starting to read the very first line: "_London. Michaelmas term lately over…_"

It was a long, never-ending paragraph and by the time she reached the close of it, she had already stumbled several times. Gone was her overconfident attitude from earlier. That had been replaced by a writhing, sobbing, weak woman who wanted her to break down and beg under her husband's mercilessly incredible tongue. John felt her arch up into his face more pronouncedly with each pass, and he knew that it wouldn't be long at all before she was pleading surrender under him, her coming apart leaving him as the victor.

But, really, he supposed as he continued to tease her, leaving her throwing _Bleak House _over the edge of the bed to lie forlornly on the floor in favour of pushing his head more firmly against her, they were both winners in the end.

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**A/N:** There's no real reason why I chose _Pride and Prejudice_ and _Bleak House_ as the books. _Pride and Prejudice_ happened to be on the bed when I started this, so I figured "why not?", and_ Bleak House_ was the bane of my life up until Christmas. I figured it could be used as another book that they're not so fond of.


End file.
